


Creators' Will

by chiogaru



Series: The Tale of the Reluctant Inquisitor and Savior Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Pre Conclave, Pre Herald, Pre Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-18 20:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10624188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiogaru/pseuds/chiogaru
Summary: Meldarion Lavellan, First to Keeper Deshanna, was not the clan's first choice to spy on the Conclave. But, when their best hunter meets with an unfortunate accident, time grows short, and for better or worse, he'll have to fill a pair of boots he's certain he's never meant to have occupied.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, while I continue to edit upload my other works and prep my new fantasy themed CYOA, I figured, as a tie-in with my DA fanart on deviantart, I'd write up some of the comics into stories, as well as stories that are going to be turned into comic pages, and have not yet been drawn and/or uploaded.

Meldarion's knife slashes down at the elfroot stalks with a vengeance, before he stuffs them into the pack slung around his side with far more force than is necessary. He had spent a considerable amount of time whacking his staff against a tree - which is not a sexual euphemism - until he decided that his frustrations were spent better doing something more productive.

 

Of average height, for an elf, his vallaslin to Sylaise in a slightly darker shade of brown than his tanned skin curve and twist around his left eye, in asymmetrical balance to the long scar across the right side of his face, which had come some time after...His long auburn hair is gathered into a loose braid over one shoulder, the best possible compromise for someone, who can't be bothered to spend longer than five minutes on doing much beyond brushing his hair, but despises cutting or having it cut even more.

 

He is sulking, and being fully aware of the fact that he is, makes him sulk even further.

 

It wasn't fair, it really wasn't. Sometimes, it's as though the Creators are toying with him. He'd never wanted to be a mage, he'd wanted to be a hunter, so, of course, the moment he'd gotten better at using a bow, he'd woken up one morning with his blankets frozen to his legs and torso and the rest of the Aravel covered in frost. These embarrassingly magical night time emissions carried on for months after, even with Deshanna's teachings and mentoring.

 

He'd been managing just fine, oh yes, magic all under control, it had been years since he'd last accidentally frozen or set fire to anything, he could recognize plants and herbs by sight, smell and taste, and whilst he wasn't the most popular one of them all, he had his clan's respect. That and his blessedly private time wandering and foraging in whatever woods or wilderness they were camped by had him, whilst not perfectly happy, reasonably content with his lot in life.

 

Which is precisely why the Creators decided it all needed to end.

 

Blasted Shemlen Templars and Mages and their blasted Shemlen squabbling! The bastards didn't even have the decency to keep it contained to their own damn settlements, no, they had to spread it around and all over the place! They don't dare getting too comfortable in any one place anymore in the event they need to make a hasty retreat in case of an unexpected shower of magic and blades.

 

Finally, their Chantry had decided to bloody do something about it with some grand meeting at what they called " _The Temple of Sacred Ashes_ ", the name alone had made him roll his eyes, but, and he'd agreed with the Keeper on this, the entire Mage-Templar war would affect not just the Dalish but elves everywhere, and they needed someone on the inside to observe and report back. Perfectly sensible, yes, they definitely needed to send a spy, he'd fully agreed and supported the point. Especially, since they'd felt their best hunter, Calloniel, would serve this purpose.

 

A sigh leaves him at this point, Calloniel is everything Meldarion is not. Strong, beautiful, kind, and loved as well as respected by the clan, despite the fact that she'd been adopted by the clan after being abandoned by her mother for reasons they all know, but choose not to discuss. She should have gone to this grand meeting, and would have too, she'd agreed to do it all without fuss after all, but...

 

They'd had a surprise, or rather, inadvertently wandered between what turned out to be a Mage and Templar showdown in what was supposed to have been a Shemlen deserted valley. Calloniel had joined the warriors and other hunters in defending their clan, and whilst they'd gotten lucky in the sense that the only casualties had been on the Shemlen's side - apparently they'd been just as surprised by the appearance of the " _savage_ " Dalish as they had been by them - but some of their own people had taken injury, and Calloniel had been one of them.

 

And now that their prime candidate is out of commission...Meldarion's lips narrow into a thin line as he recalls the shouting match he'd had with Deshanna only a few hours earlier, mostly out of frustration and desperation because he'd lost the argument, and she'd been so damn sensible about the whole thing, and above all - She'd been right. With Calloniel out, the only other possible candidate for the job would be himself, the Keeper's First. Despite his glaring character flaws.

 

He by no means hates the Keeper, she is second mother to all of the clan after all, he would even venture so far as saying that he is rather fond of the woman, and that their frequent arguments are testament to their we're-practically-family relationship, as he understands this to be an activity that close family members engage in regularly.

 

Once his pack is filled to bursting with healing herbs, the mage makes his reluctant journey back to camp, ignoring the pointed looks other members of the clan shoot him for arguing so vocally with their Keeper earlier. He takes his time depositing the herbs amongst the clan's stores, before quietly making his way into a dimly lit Aravel.

 

Stretched out on a bedroll, eyes shut, and breathing evenly, lies Calloniel, her dark shoulder length hair fanned out beneath her head, as always providing a sharp contrast to her pale skin, which seems even paler than usual. He says nothing as he moves to sit by her prone form, and it is only a short time after, that he hears her stir.

 

"You really must learn to control your temper, Lethallin..."

 

Meldarion responds with a non-committal grumble, and risks glancing down at her. She's smiling at him, in that infuriatingly calm and understanding manner of hers, how he wishes she wouldn't, then he might actually be able to get himself to be angry with her from time to time. Faced with that smile, however, any residual anger quickly disperses, and he sighs, "...Can you imagine me surrounded by and making nice with the Shemlen?"

 

"And dwarves. Mustn't forget them."

 

The First snorts derisively, he has never been what one would refer to as a people person, much preferring his solitude, which had been his main argument with the Keeper, until she'd pointed out that he wasn't going to the Conclave to make friends, he was there to spy on them.

 

"...I know this is going to be difficult, but I wish you wouldn't be so angry with Keeper Deshanna and I...You know how much it bothers the clan when the two of you argue." Calloniel murmurs, head turned to face him as best she could whilst still lying down.

 

"I'm not angry with you...and I'm not angry with Deshanna either..." Meldarion responds, shifting slightly to make himself more comfortable, "I just...I'm probably going to make a mess of it, you know, and you would have done everything so perfectly..."

 

"Oh, I doubt that, even you couldn't possibly make the situation between the mages and templars any worse than it currently is. And there isn't all that much damage to be done when all you need to do is watch. Just...don't talk too much and try not to stand out, and you'll be fine." The prone huntress further remarks with a smile.

 

"Your confidence in my abilities never ceases to amaze me, Lethallan..."

 

"Now now, don't be like that..." Calloniel's smile fades, and takes a turn for the serious, "You are far more capable than you think you are, you know, even if you are determined to be a complete ass half the time." She stretches a hand out from beneath the covers and reaches for his, "If you can't do this for the clan, or the future of the Dalish and all elves, then don't think of it as that...Think of it as doing it to get more experience of the world."

 

"I think I've had quite enough of that, thank you." Meldarion mumbles, awkwardly intertwining his fingers with hers.

 

Calloniel frowns, "It will be good for you...and, if you can't even do it for yourself...Would it be presumptuous of me to ask you to do it for me?"

 

The mage shoots her a glare, "...I hate it when you play that card."

 

"It usually works." She grins.

 

Despite not being related to each other by blood, Calloniel had from the beginning been something of a big sister to him, and the truth of the matter is, that if either of them had something to ask of the other, neither of them would refuse.

 

"So..." Meldarion goes on in resignation, "You honestly believe I can do this?"

  
"I wouldn't have said it, if I didn't."

 

"...Liar."

 

"Well, alright, I might've, but I really do mean it this time."

 

A moment of silence ensues.

 

"This would be so much easier, if you could come with me."

 

"If I were in any condition to go, you wouldn't have to."

 

"My point exactly."

 

"Come now, it's not like your going will end the world as we know it...I've seen you wield magic, and you're not _that_ good!"

 

"Ha! With my luck, I'll probably set fire to the Divine's robes or something."

 

"With your luck, you're probably going to trigger something far more noticeable."

 

"What, like that fanatic, who blew up the chantry in Kirkwall?"

 

"Well, I wouldn't have gone that far, but now that you mention it..."

 

In hindsight, he and Calloniel probably wouldn't have joked and laughed about such a remark had they even an inkling of the events that were to take place just a short month later...


End file.
